fact or fiction
Is it a fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores travel myths to help you avoid making that wrong turn.
Where the Journey Begins
The journey didn’t begin with a packed suitcase or a carefully drawn map. It began, as most meaningful things do, with a restlessness that refused to be ignored. Clara felt it first on an ordinary Tuesday morning, sitting by her apartment window as the city moved in predictable rhythms below. Cars passed, people hurried, the same café across the street filled and emptied like clockwork. Everything was exactly as it had been yesterday—and somehow that sameness felt heavier than ever. She didn’t plan it. Not really. She just opened her laptop, searched for train tickets, and chose a destination she had never heard of before. A small seaside town tucked away along a quiet stretch of coast. The name meant nothing to her, which made it perfect. Three days later, she stepped off a train into a place that felt like it had been waiting for her. The town was smaller than she imagined. Narrow streets wound lazily between whitewashed houses, their walls weathered by salt and time. Bougainvillea spilled over balconies, bright and unbothered. The air smelled like the sea—clean, endless, promising something just out of reach. Clara walked without a plan. That, she decided, would be her only rule: no plans. She passed an old man repairing fishing nets outside a small shop. He nodded as she walked by, as if he recognized something in her—a familiar kind of wandering. A little further, she found a café with only three tables and no menu. The woman inside simply asked, “Coffee?” Clara nodded. It was the best coffee she’d ever had, though she couldn’t explain why. Days in the town unfolded like slow pages of a book she didn’t want to finish. She woke early, drawn by the sound of waves brushing against the shore. She walked along the beach where no footprints lasted long enough to matter. She watched fishermen return at dusk, their boats cutting through golden light. It was there, sitting on a weathered wooden dock, that she met Daniel. Daniel had the kind of presence that made silence feel comfortable. He was leaning against a post, sketching something in a notebook, when Clara sat a few feet away. “You’re not from here,” he said, not looking up. “Is it that obvious?” He smiled slightly. “Only because you’re looking at everything like it might disappear.” Clara considered that. “Maybe I’m just noticing it.” “Same thing,” he said. They talked for hours that evening. About places they’d been, and places they hadn’t. About leaving and staying. About the strange way travel changes you—not by turning you into someone new, but by revealing parts of you that had been quiet for too long. Daniel had been traveling for years, never settling for long. “There’s always another place,” he said. “But sometimes the real reason to go somewhere isn’t the place itself.” “What is it, then?” Clara asked. “To find the version of yourself that only exists there.” A week passed, then two. Clara stopped counting days. She began to feel something shift inside her—not dramatically, not all at once, but gently, like the tide reshaping the shore. The urgency she carried from the city softened. The questions that once felt overwhelming seemed less important here. One evening, Daniel showed her a path that led up a steep hillside overlooking the town. They climbed in near darkness, guided only by a narrow trail and the distant sound of the sea. At the top, the world opened. Below them, the town glowed softly, scattered lights flickering like constellations fallen to earth. The ocean stretched beyond, vast and unknowable, reflecting the faint shimmer of stars. “This is why I travel,” Daniel said quietly. Clara didn’t respond right away. She was thinking about how small everything looked from up there—and how freeing that felt. “I think I understand,” she said finally. When Clara left the town, it wasn’t with sadness. Not exactly. It was something quieter, more certain. She knew she wasn’t leaving it behind; she was carrying it with her. The next part of her journey wasn’t planned either. She rented a car—something she’d never done before—and started driving inland. No destination, no timeline. Just roads stretching endlessly ahead. Highways have a different kind of magic than seaside towns. Where the town invited her to slow down, the road invited her to keep moving. Landscapes shifted rapidly—coastlines gave way to rolling hills, then to vast open fields where the horizon seemed impossibly far away. She stopped in places that weren’t marked on any guidebook. A roadside diner where the waitress called everyone “hon.” A gas station where a stray dog followed her around until she shared her sandwich. A quiet stretch of desert where the silence felt almost sacred. Each place left its mark, small but undeniable. Somewhere along a long, empty highway, Clara realized something she hadn’t expected. She no longer felt like she was searching for something. At the beginning, the journey had been about escape—leaving behind the monotony, the predictability, the version of herself that felt too confined. But now, miles away from where she started, she understood that the journey wasn’t about running from anything. It was about arriving. Not at a place, but at a feeling. A way of being. She pulled over to the side of the road and stepped out of the car. The wind moved freely across the open land, carrying with it the scent of earth and distance. The sky stretched endlessly above her, unbroken and vast. For the first time in a long while, she felt completely present. Months later, Clara would struggle to explain the journey to others. They would ask about the places she visited, the things she saw, the distance she covered. She would tell them about the seaside town with no name that mattered. About the man who believed travel reveals who you are. About the highways that seemed to lead nowhere and everywhere at once. But what she wouldn’t be able to fully explain was how it changed her. How she learned that beginnings aren’t always loud or obvious. Sometimes they arrive quietly, disguised as a simple decision—to go somewhere new, to take a different road, to step into the unknown. And how, in those hidden towns and open highways, she discovered something she hadn’t realized she was missing. Herself. Because in the end, the journey doesn’t begin when you leave a place. It begins the moment you decide you’re ready to find what’s been waiting for you all along.
By Sahir E Shafqat3 days ago in Wander
The Christmas Truce They Tried to Erase
On Christmas Eve 1914, something extraordinary happened along the Western Front that high command on both sides immediately tried to suppress because it threatened the entire war effort: thousands of British and German soldiers spontaneously stopped fighting, climbed out of their trenches, met in No Man's Land to exchange gifts and cigarettes, play football, and bury their dead together, proving that the men doing the dying had more in common with each other than with the generals ordering them to slaughter one another, and when word reached headquarters, officers were horrified and issued strict orders that such fraternization must never happen again because soldiers who saw their enemies as human beings might refuse to kill them.
By The Curious Writer12 days ago in Wander
Medea’s Quick Divorce
Dear Jason, Please use this letter as a quick divorce approval you requested, you poor gelded ram. Did you really think I'd give you my best golden fleece? The problem with you lost travelers is that you never know the highest quality of either the sheep or the gold-gathering fleece. Since your departure, I've put a dozen of new fleece in my quarters, both on the walls and the floor for rugs. I literally walk and sleep on gold.
By Lana V Lynx13 days ago in Wander
10 Countries You Probably Didn’t Know Existed (But Absolutely Should!)
We all dream about visiting iconic destinations like France, Italy, or tropical paradises like Hawaii and Bali. But what if I told you there are countries and territories most people have never even heard of?
By Areeba Umairabout a month ago in Wander
10 Times Tourists Completely Ruined Priceless History
There’s something magnetic about ancient architecture and historic artifacts. Whether it’s a crumbling amphitheater, a sacred temple high in the mountains, or a centuries-old painting in a quiet chapel, we’re drawn to these places. Maybe it’s the mystery. Maybe it’s the legends. Maybe it’s the simple realization that these structures have survived hundreds, sometimes thousands of years.
By Areeba Umairabout a month ago in Wander
8 Incredible Places You Must Visit Before They Disappear Forever
Vacations are the perfect excuse to explore, relax, and witness the beauty of the world. But some places are vanishing due to climate change, rising sea levels, or human activity, and if you don’t visit them soon, you might miss your chance. Here’s a list of eight phenomenal destinations that belong on every traveler’s bucket list.
By Areeba Umairabout a month ago in Wander
Ali and Nino in Batumi, Georgia
I've been wanting to see this statue in person forever. I finally did, last weekend (February 7, 2026). My niece, who is staying with me and will be leaving in a week, desperately wanted to go to a sea (she has been to lakes, ponds, rivers, and oceans but never to a sea) so we decided to make a short trip to Batumi, the third largest city in Georgia (after Tbilisi and Kutaisi) located on the Black Sea shore. It is also a capital of Ajara, one of the regions of Georgia with a distinct culture and traditions. And the favorite place for Russians who fled Putin's war in Ukraine. In our short stay there, we heard a lot more Russian than Georgian in the streets of Batumi.
By Lana V Lynx2 months ago in Wander
A Little History In Heptonstall
Introduction Last week I holidayed in Hebden Bridge in Yorkshire and discovered a couple of things that I didn't know before getting there. One thing I did know is that several BBC series have been filmed there, "Happy Valley" and the current "Riot Women":
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 months ago in Wander
The EXplorer
I am a follower of all things Travel and Adventure, my eyes light up at the discovery of a new flight route to Armenia, A camel trek in the Western Sahara or a Windsurfing trip in Naxos. I sometime discover information about destinations so far removed from any known tourist guides that I cannot even pinpoint them on the world map without tracing the steps of previous explorers with some kind of obsessive desire to find the answers. The thought of the unknown is what drives my spirit of adventure, I leave scribbles and notes in diaries about trips and ideas far into the future, even if they are not viable or I never embark on them, but each idea is what inspires and motivates me to keep taking those steps to find what is over the horizon.
By Malachai Hough3 months ago in Wander
